


Hagbarðr And Signy

by solitariusvirtus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Short Chapters, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An empire of bone and ash is all that can thrive under the care of golden hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hagbarðr And Signy

She rolled her eyes at him, picking the flask and bringing it to her lips. Taking a sip, Lyanna scrunched her nose against the smell and taste. The liquid made its way down her throat, thick and bitter, slightly burning. She swallowed with great difficulty. “There, are you pleased?”

Jaime gave a sharp nod of the head, taking the skin away from her hands and allowing it to drop to the ground, the thin decorative layer of gold cracking slightly at the careless handling. “The look of your face,” he snickered unrepentantly. “Gods, you are truly the best victim there is. If I told you to put those on you would do it, would you not?” He pointed to the golden plate of armour. “Do you have anything in that head of yours?”

“No, but I have three brothers,” she answered with just as much zest, not confusing his impertinence for anything other than it was. “And it is their duty to protect me. Or avenge me. That guy Brandon got into a fight with is still in hospital.”

“Is that supposed to faze me? I can take any of your brothers on, any day, anyplace.” He took out a cigarette and handed it to her. “Hold this a minute.” His hand went into the pocket as he muttered some obscenities about skin-tight clothing. Lyanna considered pointing out that he had decided to wear those jeans on his own. “I swear, this is going to drive me insane.”

“Should you be smoking, anyway?” she questioned after he had retrieved his lighter. “Father would have an apoplexy.” Which was not necessarily true. Certainly, Tywin Lannister’s apoplexy was more credible in the unfortunate occurrence that he ever stumbled upon his twins down in the laundry room. Well, Lyanna hoped it would not be the case. She rather liked the Old Rock and its cosiness.

“Father will not hear a word of this, or I’m ravening him every bit of flack I can find. Don’t think I won’t. You skipped three classes and it’s only the beginning of the week.” He took a draft of the finely shaped cigarette. “What do you have against decency and order that you would do something like that?”

“I think they call it a case of allergy. You see, stupidity makes me break out in sarcasm. I thought I’d avoid the unpleasantness. And it’s only three classes.” She sat down on the bench, stretching her legs out. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I feel as if,” there she paused and sought the words to best convey what she meant, “I just feel as if I could be doing so much more.”

“Like?” He yawned and threw the half-smoked cigarette away. “Raise all the orphans in the world? Shelter all the puppies? What exactly do you want to do?” He sat down as well, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Papa always thought our house would storm Council and implement some much needed changes. Brandon won’t do it. He’s fine with his wild life and living off of his inheritance. Ned hasn’t the heart for it and Benji is not shaping up to the task, is he?”

“Unless you are proposing that we nail ourselves to the Council building in protest, then there is little we can do to achieve that.” He spoke calmly, but there was still a hint of mischief there. “You know very well, you shall never take precedence over Cersei unless you do it on his terms. What’s in a name?”

“Prestige, birthright, pride.” Was she being a sentimental fool? “He could still be convinced. I did well on that assignment of his. I know I have.” If only mother would help as well. But she had elected to keep quiet and allow father to decide. “Why is he so insistent?”

“Prestige, birthright, pride,” he answered, nudging her. “You have learned from him. Of course he won’t accept a defection at this point.” Or at any point, really. That man is smart. “I say you think this over carefully.”

“Or, I could just pack up a bag and disappear into the night,” she cracked, the image forming itself in her mind. “Just think, Jaime, you would see me on the glass a few years from now.”

“Or find you floating in the Trident in a few turns,” he quips right back. “Besides, you would go on something silly like Two Towers. I would die of shame. The Trident is the better option.” She looked at him, contemplating his profile for a whole matter of five seconds. “Just don’t wear your blue dress. We would never find you then.”

“You mean my green dress?” It’s funny. She should be, by all rights, unwilling to speak to him. And yet, she does. “The one with the bees hemline.” As if he could possibly tell what the embroidery was. Jaime nodded nonetheless. “I think it looks good. When I run away, I’ll wear it.” He laughed.

“And those heels mother got you.”

_(It's the thief in the larder. Signy holds back her gasp. The rat in the hay slips past the cats. She does not smile at the miachief that is there. But rather she fears. She fears because she sought out the heavier one, not this other._

_Still, she slips away from her position, the shadows releasing her. The ghost of his stare lingers upon her. She can feel it. And shame floods her. Gates, she thinks, she needs the gates.)_


End file.
